


Our Children

by rhye



Category: Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhye/pseuds/rhye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olympus right after the end of Mark of Athena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Children

**Author's Note:**

> Major _Mark of Athena_ spoilers.

ATHENA

When Athena's head cleared, she realized she was standing, dumbstruck, staring at a column. Not just staring at it, but staring at it from about three inches away. Her nose had nearly been pressed against it. She looked around. _Olympus._ What had she been doing? She remembered the previous moments as if they were a dream: the sensation of being lost, of looking at maps, of trying to get home. And now she... _and now she was_. She felt it. It was a sensation of indescribable comfort and rightness. Her daughter must have succeeded. Annabeth-- yes that was right. That was her name. Annabeth must have succeeded. Athena turned her eyes outward, through the statue _Athena Parthenos_ , to Greece, to find her daughter, to-- if she had possessed a mortal's beating heart, it might have stopped in her chest. The statue had witnessed something, and what the statue saw, Athena saw. Only now, with her mind clear, was Athena able to _understand_ the series of images. Arachne, the cave, the pit, the screams-- _the fall_.

Her feet carried her unbidden. Annabeth-- her own daughter and savior-- was falling to Tartarus at this very moment. She had not arrived yet, but likely would soon. How many days had it been? There was no way of knowing. Athena knew she owed her sanity to her daughter. She would save Annabeth. She _must_ save Annabeth. She thought it unlikely that any of the confused and embattled Olympians would help her, but there was a small possibility... An unlikely ally, but she had to try.

She found them where she had known she would find them. The voices reached her ears long before she entered the throne room:

"I _must_ go," Poseidon was demanding. He didn't often yell, but when he did-- his voice deep and terrible as an earthquake-- it gave one pause.

"You cannot. I refuse it," Zeus answered. Zeus, in contrast, rarely kept his calm. His hair stood with barely-contained electricity as he faced down his brother.

"The sea is in turmoil."

"The _world_ is in turmoil. They want to draw us into it! We cannot let ourselves be distracted."

"This _is_ a distraction. My place is with my people, below the waves."

Athena cleared her throat, and both of the gods turned to look at her. "What?" Zeus snapped. "We were having a discussion."

She didn't say what she was thinking: that a discussion implied an exchange of rational ideas, not the same high-volume screeching that had been going on for weeks. Her eyes met and held Poseidon's. "We have a problem. Percy and Annabeth have fallen into Tartarus."

For a single long moment, no one said anything. Then, with a shake of his head, Poseidon asked, "Who?"

Athena felt her skin go cold. Her only conceivable ally... Was he too far gone? Were they _all_ too far gone? "Percy _Jackson_ ," she responded, hoping against hope.

Poseidon stared at her blankly.

"Perseus Jackson. Your son!"

Zeus laughed. "Kelp-face here has too many sons. You don't expect him to remember every single one of them, do you?"

Athena turned on Zeus, her patience stretched to the breaking point. "The son of prophecy? The mortal boy who saved all of us from Typhon? Saved us from _Kronos_? The one who fought Kronos--" she pointed to the base of Zeus's throne, "right here? The one who befriended your own half-blood children, who defended both camps against terrible odds? Who turned down your offer of immortality, causing you to lock us all up in Olympus in the first place? The son who had the audacity to fall in love with _my daughter_?" She redirected her glare at Poseidon. "Yes, I might expect him to remember _that son_."

Athena immediately noticed, though, that Poseidon _had_ remembered. His tanned face had grown impossibly pale. "Tartarus," he whispered, breathless, as if someone had punched him. "How can I possibly help?"

Never once, in the thousands of years that Athena had known Poseidon, had he ever asked her for direction, for guidance. Certainly, he should have. He had gotten himself into his share of wars and he had about as much strategic sense as her little finger. But he never had. She was taken aback by how much he must have loved this mortal son that he was asking now.

"Speak to Hades," she directed him. "If anyone can help at all, it is him, and he is far more likely to listen to you than to me."

"He won't listen to me," Poseidon declared.

"You must make him," Athena answered sternly.

"I can't let you leave," Zeus interrupted.

"Father," Athena turned to him. "This foolishness has gone on long enough. You may wish to sit here and observe, but if I recall, you helped Jason Grace defeat a giant-- against your own directive not to interfere. You stepped in to save your child. It is only fair that we be allowed the same privilege."

Zeus did not seem convinced. He frowned and opened his mouth to object when Hera stepped forward from behind a throne. "She is right, love. Let them go. They are not interfering with the war on the ground, only the one that is about to begin in Tartarus."

"How can there be war in Tartarus?" Zeus asked. "If these mortals land in Tartarus, they are doomed."

Hera's eyes shone. "Perhaps," she answered, "But then Athena and Poseidon would never forgive you. If you let them try and they fail, they have no one to blame but themselves."

Zeus was swayed by this. He nodded, dismissing Poseidon and Athena with a wave of his hand. Both turned and left the chamber before Zeus could change his mind.

 

 

PAUL

Paul was just finishing up the dinner dishes when the doorbell rang. The doorman hadn't buzzed, so it was probably Mrs. Kent from across the hall. She'd lost her husband last year and sometimes brought them batches of cookies for dessert.

"I'll get it," Sally called from the couch. She had been working on revisions of a novel she simply could not seem to get published. Keeping her encouraged, especially given Percy's absence, was becoming exceedingly difficult.

A moment later, as Paul was wiping up the counter, he heard a loud smash. It sounded to him like Sally's laptop hitting the floor. He quickly darted from the kitchen to the hallway, but stopped dead in his tracks when his brain registered what he was seeing: Sally in the arms of another man. Percy's father. _Percy's father the literal Greek god. With a body like a literal Greek god._ Paul's first reaction was jealousy. His second reaction, though, was sinking horror. He'd only met Poseidon once before, at Percy's fifteenth birthday party. If Poseidon was here, it wasn't to steal Sally away. It had to be concerning Percy.

They hadn't heard from Percy in months-- not unless you counted one voice message. Percy might have thought that counted, but Paul, who held Sally as she cried herself to sleep over worry for her son, did not. And now this.

"Oh God," Paul gasped, staggering backwards. Sally looked up and pulled self-consciously away from Poseidon. Her eyes were red, and she was swiping away tears.

"I'm sorry," Poseidon said softly. "I... should have been able to prevent this. I thought you should hear it from me."

"How..." Paul couldn't get the words out. "How did it happen?"

Poseidon inhaled deeply and then spoke. "He was trying to rescue Athena's daughter--"

"Annabeth," Sally gasped. Percy's girlfriend was practically a part of their little family now.

"He fell in after her."

Sally's sobs started again, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to try and silence herself. Paul felt his own chest tighten. God no-- Percy _and_ Annabeth? They were both so _young_ , so vital and strong. How was this possible? And it hadn't been any terrible monster or war, but a _fall_?

Paul was still trying to wrap his mind around this impossibility. He knew that he needed to be strong for Sally now, had to be practical so that she wouldn't have to be. "What... ok. What do we do now? Have you told Annabeth's father? We need-- if you have them... I think we'd like to bury Percy near Montauk." Paul's eyes caught Sally's in a silent question, to see if he had guessed this right. He knew Sally had thought of it. Percy was always in so much danger. The possibility of having to bury her son had never been far from her mind.

Sally nodded, but her hands stayed clamped over her mouth. Paul wondered if she was holding back a scream.

Poseidon frowned at him. "Athena is speaking to Annabeth's father right now. As for burial, however... I'm afraid I've been misunderstood. They fell into Tartarus."

"Oh God." Paul thought he would be sick.

"We're going to do all we can to get them out," Poseidon continued, and Paul wondered whether there was any point. Poseidon heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid there's little Athena or I can do, however. As usual, the bulk of their fate rests on their own shoulders."

Paul felt his heart race, and Sally looked up at Poseidon, tears still swimming in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. She finally moved her hands away from her mouth. "They're alive?" she asked quietly.

Poseidon stared at her a moment. "Oh goodness yes! You didn't think... Oh _Sally_."

Sally fell once more into Poseidon's arms, and Paul felt no jealousy-- nothing but relief. Sally was choking out words, muttering them into Poseidon's sun-bleached red T-shirt. "You are... _so_... infuriating. Don't you _ever_ do that again. I could _kill_ you."

Paul found himself laughing, and as he did so, his wet eyes betrayed him and sent a shiver of tears down his cheeks. His hand was shaking as he wiped them away.

Sally broke away once again, sniffled, and smiled at Paul. "Go," she told Poseidon. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you again until you've got our children."

 

POSEIDON

Sally Jackson's parting words to Poseidon had been eerily similar to Athena's. Either way, he knew that he could not return to New York without Percy and Annabeth. There was very little he could do to help them, but he knew he must do what he could. Next stop, The House of Hades, to see what aid his brother would give-- or _could_ give for that matter. Tartarus was a place almost beyond control of the gods, but that was going to have to change.


End file.
